


I Heard Your Voice and I Came

by meyghasa



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 06:11:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2098590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meyghasa/pseuds/meyghasa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Har har isn't it a clever title?  </p>
<p>Clear and Sly Blue meet for the first time after Clear's return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Heard Your Voice and I Came

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt from [slybun](http://slybun.tumblr.com)!

Nearly three weeks had passed since Clear had waltzed back into Aoba’s life with a smile and an, “I heard your voice, so I came, Aoba-san.” It had been three weeks of emotional exhaustion for both of them, a swirl of relief and joy and bittersweet memories. Aoba went to sleep each night wrapped in Clear’s arms, cheek to chest and fingers entwined as though if he let go, Clear would leave again. 

Clear was infinitely patient in most things, his natural joviality only made stronger by his brush with death. When Aoba grumbled at him, he smiled brightly with crinkles at the corners of his eyes. When Aoba scolded him, he bowed slightly with a polite, “Of course, Aoba-san.” And when Aoba tossed and turned in his sleep, inevitably stealing all of the covers and ending up in positions of which contortionists could only dream, Clear smiled, patted Aoba’s head, and watched. He always watched. One would almost think that Aoba had been the one taken away for months of regeneration, because there was barely ever a time when Clear wasn’t watching with sparkling eyes and smiles of varying intensity.

It was one such night. Aoba had managed to wrap the lower half of himself in a cocoon of blankets, lying on his stomach with one arm flung over Clear’s stomach and the other bent beneath his pillow. Clear smiled, stroked Aoba’s arm, and watched until, without warning, Aoba’s eyes opened.

“Aoba-san, did you have a bad dream?” Clear asked in a gentle voice.

“Why do you always watch me when I sleep? It’s fucking creepy.”  
Clear went very still, eyes wide and unblinking. He knew that voice. That voice had been the one to call to him when he was sleeping. It had led him across the city, beckoning incessantly. It was the voice that he had always been waiting for, the cool voice of his master that he only later learned was a different part of his master altogether.

“Aoba-san,” Clear whispered.

Yellow eyes narrowed. “What happened to Master?”

“You told me—“

“I want you to call me Master.” Sly Blue – Aoba’s Desire, still lurking below the surface and sometimes desperate to scratch his way out – unwrapped the blanket cocoon and pushed himself upright until he was sitting with his back to the wall facing Clear. He crossed his legs at the ankles and draped them over Clear’s nonchalantly. “Because I am, aren’t I? Your master?” 

Clear swallowed hard. Aoba-san had insisted on being called Aoba-san, but this wasn’t exactly him, was it? He debated with himself silently, unable to look away from that burning gaze.

“Well? I don’t like waiting. Am I your master or not?” Without breaking eye contact, Sly moved one bare foot up Clear’s thigh, skin sliding smoothly over the soft fabric of Clear’s pajama pants. He stopped at one jutting hipbone, then slid his foot down until it was pressed flat against Clear’s cock. One corner of his mouth curling up in a smirk, Sly pressed down hard enough to be just this side shy of painful and waited for a response.

“Yes,” Clear managed in a strangled voice. 

“Yes what?”

“Yes… Master.”

Sly’s smirk morphed into a grin, and his foot slid up and down Clear’s cock until the robot was whimpering, head pressed back into the pillow and teeth worrying his bottom lip. He stopped as abruptly as he had begun, shifting so that he was on his knees in front of Clear. One hand went to Clear’s chin, jerking his face up until he was staring up at Sly, panting, eyes wide. 

“What exactly would you do for your master, Clear?”

A beat, then, “Anything, Master.”

“Heh.” Sly sat back, slithered out of his pajamas, and resumed his position with his back to the wall. He was half hard already, and when Clear made no attempt to do anything other than stare, Sly huffed in irritation. “Well?”

Clear sat up and twisted his fingers together nervously. “Master, I—“

“I didn’t tell you to give me excuses. Shit, I don’t want you to talk at all. Just get to it.”

And how could he resist? Master was Master, and an order was an order, and Clear wanted nothing more than to do whatever would make his master happy. Clear shifted until he was lying perpendicular to Sly and tentatively ran his index finger down Sly’s cock, over his balls, stopping just short of his asshole. His tongue soon followed his finger’s path, then changed course, sliding up the underside of Sly’s shaft. Clear paused at the tip and, glancing up at Sly’s face and seeing smirking approval there, wrapped his lips around the head of his cock. 

Clear was, admittedly, used to Aoba who blushed and squirmed and was embarrassed, so he was caught completely off-guard when a hand gripped his hair and shoved his head down, burying Sly’s cock in his mouth. After a few moments of confused surprise, Clear got the message and started sucking Sly off with a combination of hard suction, a squirming tongue, and long fingers wrapped around him at the base and jerking counterpoint to his mouth. He was rewarded with a series of pleased grunts and moans coming from above that only spurred him into more action.

Until he was shocked again, a few moments later, when a slippery finger pressed first against, then inside his ass. Thoroughly startled, Clear abandoned his task, jerked his head up, and began with a “Master—“

“Shut up.” Sly’s hand in his hair pressed him back down, and after a moment of hesitation, Clear went back to work, trying to ignore the probing finger inside him. It was considerably harder to concentrate when a second finger was added to the first, warm and slick. Before long they were splayed out in a lewd tableau, Sly with his head pressed against the wall and his eyes closed, panting loudly and jerking his hips forward to meet Clear’s mouth, and Clear moaning around Sly’s cock while he alternated between pressing back against Sly’s fingers and rutting against the mattress in a desperate attempt to get more friction. 

Clear was nothing if not damn enthusiastic. He sucked on Sly like he was some kind of delicious candy, only spurred on further by the sounds of pleasure coming from his master. Each of Sly’s thrusts nearly hit the back of Clear’s throat, and Clear could feel the tensing of Sly’s muscles from the press of his palm against Sly’s stomach that he knew from experience with Aoba meant he was damn close to coming. 

“Nng,” was the only warning Clear got before Sly dug his fingers almost painfully into Clear’s scalp and shot cum down the robot’s throat. Clear swallowed greedily and kept licking and sucking, much more gently, until Sly shoved his head away. 

Sly pulled his fingers from Clear’s ass and pushed at him until he flipped over. Sly and Clear both glanced down at the telltale wet spot on the sheets where Clear had just been, Sly with an arched eyebrow and a smirk, and Clear with cheeks flaming in embarrassment. “Master, I—“

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?” Sly snapped. He resettled himself more comfortably against the wall, bending one leg up, resting his arm on his knee casually, and glancing down at the hard line of Clear’s cock. “Anyway, I guess you better do something about that.” 

Clear opened his mouth to protest, but one stern—and almost angry—look killed the words in his throat. Shoving down his embarrassment and averting his gaze, he wrapped one hand around the base of his cock, giving one experimental stroke. A moan escaped his throat, cut off by Sly’s thumb and forefinger pressing into his chin and jerking his head back over. 

“Look at me. Only me. And do it right—none of this slow, teasing bullshit.”

An order was an order, after all.

Swallowing against the lump in his throat, Clear started to stroke harder, faster, his eyes never leaving Sly’s with renewed resolve, embarrassment almost totally gone in the face of, yet again, making his master happy. His hand felt almost too good—but not as good as his master’s, said a voice in the back of his head that he promptly shoved away. If Sly wanted to touch him, he would, and clearly he was more interested in being a spectator. Clear couldn’t stop the little moans and gasps that slipped out from his parted lips, and Sly kept his eyes on him, his real expression carefully hidden behind a mask of just-more-than boredom. 

A few more jerks, a few more twists of his wrist, a few more careful swipes of his thumb, and Clear was coming with a gasp, forcing his eyes to stay open as cum splattered across his stomach. Sly gave him a few moments to come down from the high before he moved forward, shifting until he was on all fours and approaching like a dangerous predator. He pressed Clear back until he hit the mattress, then swung a leg over so he was straddling Clear’s stomach. Sly leaned down, gripped Clear’s chin again, and kissed him hard and hot until Clear was panting again. 

“This was pretty fun. I guess we ought to do it again sometime,” Sly said casually before he slid off, wrapped himself back in the blankets, and lay down again with his back to the robot. Clear stared at him, wanting to say something but unable to find the words, and soon Sly was back to snoring.


End file.
